


Counting the Cost

by linguamortua



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Biting, Choking, Consent Issues, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, F/F, Femdom, Femslash, Fingerfucking, In Which Men Are Terrible, Lesbian Phasma, Lesbian Rey, Loss of Virginity, Manipulation, Phasma's Silver Armour, Rey's Unfortunate Sexual Awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguamortua/pseuds/linguamortua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As she tries to escape Starkiller Base, Rey finds that someone is directing her into a trap. It turns out that there’s only one way to escape. </p><p>(Or: light man-hating, unsubtle vulva metaphors and a really poorly-timed sexual awakening.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting the Cost

**Author's Note:**

> Would Phasma make a tactical error like this? Almost certainly not. But this is _my_ dubcon lesbian id-fic, damn it, and I will write porno logic if I want. I suppose we could be sneaky and say that this is why she ended up in the trash compactor.

Locked in a chair with her limbs immobilised, Rey tried not to cry. She was very good at that. Adrenaline had kept her brave, but she was struggling to hold herself together now that the eye of the storm had passed over her. The metal was hard on her wrists, so hard, and the chair had been made for someone taller. It arched her backwards, her head not quite high up enough for the headrest. With her belly exposed, her thoughts kept running to disembowelment and butchery, things ripping into her, ripping her open. The tall Sith Lord with the angular, desperate face - he had ripped into her too, more insidiously than any physical wound. Her head spun with him. 

She knew things; she had seen things. Knowledge was power, but it was dangerous, too. He knew she knew. She quailed to think of it.

She had fought back, as she always did. How? She struggled to access that part of her mind that he had pried open. Will made flesh. If she tried not to try, it seemed to appear like a picture swimming up out of an optical illusion. In flashes and bursts, she caught the singular human awareness of the man standing by the door. She had repelled the Sith. She wondered. She reached out tentatively.

‘You will remove these restraints and leave this cell with the door open.’ Her voice sounded small and high. He barely moved. The power slipped away from her. She tried again. He came towards her. A third time, and he stopped in his tracks. There was a sensation, like a stiff key finally opening a lock. He unlocked her restraints. ‘And you’ll drop your weapon,’ Rey commanded, suddenly feeling compelled towards pragmatism. He dropped his blaster on the floor and wandered off. His presence - his energy - drifted away down the corridor. 

Rey scrambled to her feet, back peeling all sticky and cold from the chair. She shook a little. The blaster was heavy in her hands but she had no other weapon. A stave would have been preferable, but poking her head out into the hallway made her so unbearably exposed that she clutched the blaster like a precious bag full of ration portions. 

The base was full of enemies, but Rey was quick and cunning and knew how to hide. It was a vast facility, housing thousands, a warren of access tunnels and storage cupboards and trash chutes. Flexible and strong, Rey could easily pull herself into a droid maintenance cupboard or slide behind a cluster of pipes whenever she heard someone coming. Stormtroopers in pairs, some maintenance workers. A security droid, burbling to itself in an unfamiliar code of bleeps. She pressed on.

What she needed was a ship. Anything would do. Anything with a working engine and a good communications array. The thought hammered at her over and over. She checked every corridor, every sign, looking for something that would navigate her towards a hangar. So urgent was her need that a part of her worried that the Sith would be able to pluck the thought out of her mind. Her skin crawled with him, his vast height and the sour, ashy odour of his sweat and his masculine propensity for invasion, humiliation, violence.

She kept moving, edgy and feeling eyes on her, somehow.

Rey couldn’t have said how long passed before she started noticing the doors. At first, it had been easy to quietly peep around corners and into rooms, but now more and more of the doors were locked. They closed by themselves now, too, parts of the facility sealing off behind her and to either side. The sensation of eyes on her intensified. She tried not to panic. She was a rat in a maze, she knew, but she tamped down her fear and tried to think. 

Someone was guiding her somewhere. Manipulating her. An uproar had started; some alarm bell ringing and the sounds of footsteps and shouts behind her. She slid into a storage cupboard as half a dozen stormtroopers ran past in measured unison. The vibration of their boots on the durasteel floor rippled up her back where she pressed herself against the wall. Next to her, a long metal pipe rattled and then fell towards her. Instinctively, Rey caught it; it fit her palm to perfect. She shoved the blaster onto a nearby shelf and gripped the pipe. It was thick and solid, weighty without being too heavy. About her height. She grinned. Perfect.

No blaster would save her from half a dozen soldiers. With her new staff in her hand she felt safer. She moved quickly now, taking any available path. Her options were being whittled away by some unseen hand, some invisible watcher with an invisible goal in mind. Behind her she could hear the sound of stormtroopers closing in on her. What lay ahead Rey didn’t know, but it was the only way. She ran. She knew how to be brave. 

As she turned a corner, a door on either side of her slammed shut and sealed with a clank and a hiss. A long corridor stretched in front of her, grey and sterile and punctuated by red emergency lights. The only exit was a big blast door at the end of the hall. It lay invitingly open, half-dark inside with a few flickering red lights. It wasn’t a hangar. 

From a few hundred yards behind her, Rey heard the crackle of static on a radio and a tinny voice barking orders. She gripped her staff so hard her hand hurt, and bolted for the door. Returning to the cell and the chair and the intrusive, prying presence of the Sith Lord in her mind was not an option. She had heard myths and legends and they had scared her once, when she was very small. Knowing the truth of them scared her once again. Recapture was not an option. She dived through the door, slamming her hand against the inner control panel to lock it, and doubled over, panting hard.

‘Not bad, girlie,’ said a hollow, echoing voice, distorted by a helmet voice modulator. Rey jumped into a defensive posture, bringing her makeshift staff up. And up. And - stars, but the figure in front of her was big, tall and looming and clad in metal armour. Rey switched to a fighting stance, chin up. Her heart rattled in her chest, but it got her blood up. A real fight - that was what she was familiar with. Better to go down fighting than restrained in some creepy Sith’s torture chair.

She struck out, fast and low. The imposing soldier caught the end of the metal bar in its silver hand and jerked it out of Rey’s grip. Rey brought her fists up. The soldier bent the metal pipe in half and dropped it on the floor. It rattled horribly and then stopped. The silence inside the locked room was almost total, broken only by the quiet hum of the databanks and screens. A red glow suffused the air and painted the silver armour in bloody stripes.

‘Who are you?’ Rey demanded, trying to inject a challenging note into her voice. The figure reached up, unclipped its helmet and pulled it off. 

The soldier - the woman - was maybe fifteen years older than Rey, face hard and proud with command. Her hair was short and blonde and pulled back from her face. She was handsome, rather than beautiful; her style was strictly utilitarian but she was strong and confident in a way that Rey had not seen in a woman before. All the women on Jakku had been tired and used-up, except for a handful of veiled, hidden kept mistresses. Underfed whores or lean, vicious scavenger girls or ancient crones trying to scratch out a living. Nobody was beautiful there - not in public, anyway. Good looks were a luxury, something to be acquired by force or traded for, sequestered away or ruined to prove a point.

The woman gave a quirk of a smile, as if Rey had spoken out loud. Perhaps she was Force-sensitive, too - _are you?_ \- she thought on a whim, but the woman didn’t respond. 

‘Who are you?’ Rey said again.

‘Captain of the guard,’ the woman said vaguely. She hefted her helmet in her hand and set it aside. ‘And you’re the scavenger girl.’

‘I’m _Rey_ ,’ said Rey fiercely, wanting to be more than just _the girl, a girl, some girl_. ‘What do you want with me?’

‘Nothing. You’re Ren’s toy.’

‘So… I can leave?’ Rey asked, not really believing it.

‘What, back out that door? Only one way out, girl.’ The Captain grinned. She was playing with Rey. Rey knew that look well.

‘Air ducts,’ said Rey. ‘I can crawl through the air ducts. Or - or steal stormtrooper armour.’

‘Make a daring escape?’ the Captain said, with a hint of mockery. She took two swift steps forward and grabbed Rey by the arm. She had a punishing grip and her armoured hand was large and uncomfortable on Rey’s bicep. Rey had to hop-skip to keep up with the Captain’s long strides. ‘Look,’ said the woman, pointing at a viewing console. ‘These two landed on the planet half an hour ago. Recognise them?’

‘Finn!’ Rey gasped under her breath. A complicated wash of emotion rolled over her - relief and joy and worry. She feared for the kind boy with his awkward smile and gentle nature. Finn wasn’t like the men on Jakku. He was softer, sweeter; he was already a friend. Rey wanted to run to him. She wanted him to run away.

 _Run, Finn, leave_ , she said in her head, willing him to hear her.

The Captain moved her gauntleted hand to the back of Rey’s neck. Rey was boxed in, pressed against the command console in front of her, with the Captain’s threatening bulk just behind her.

‘Finn,’ echoed the Captain derisively. ‘That’s FN-2187. Doesn’t do to give them names, you know. Inhibits proper group cohesion.’

‘He’s my friend,’ Rey said, trying to pull away from the Captain. ‘I have to help him.’ 

‘No way in hell, girlie.’ The metal armour shifted. The Captain’s face was just visible in Rey’s peripheral vision. ‘Look, you did all right with Ren, but given enough time that lad could baffle _himself_ with the Force. Now you get to see how real soldiers work.’

‘What do you mean?’ Rey already had a terrible inkling.

‘My soldiers are well trained. I just sent a dozen of them out to bring your friends in - the trooper and the Wookiee and the old man. My stormtroopers know their work, and your friends will be captured, and they’ll be killed.’

‘They’re good people!’ Rey protested. She turned in the Captain’s grip and stared up at her face.

‘This’ll be a good lesson for you. People die. Soldiers die.’

‘Are you going to kill me, too?’ Rey asked, and the Captain laughed. 

‘I like your spark,’ she said. ‘I was the same way when I was a kid.’ It wasn’t a straight answer. Rey had to crane her head to look the woman in the eye, but she could just about do it, and she tried to make herself look as unthreatening as possible.

‘I don’t want to die,’ she said, which was true enough to make entirely unforced tears come to her eyes.

‘I’ve got no reason not to hand you right back to Ren,’ said the Captain.

‘Don’t,’ said Rey in a rush. ‘Don’t do that. Please.’ 

‘Aren’t you polite all of a sudden?’ The Captain’s smile was predatory and wide.

‘Really,’ Rey said, sensing a shift in the conversation, a little rupture in the script. She was too rattled to open her mind and know the other woman’s thoughts, but there was a sense of her presence, of a touch of warmth. Manipulation didn’t come easily to Rey, but bargaining did. So she bargained. ‘I’ll do anything,’ she said, with a gulp. She didn’t like how it felt to say it. It encompassed too much.

‘Anything,’ mused the Captain. She shifted her weight, leaning forward onto her braced arms. They were very close together. Rey could smell the warm metal and leather of the Captain’s armour, and a touch of skin, and something herbal like soap. The woman’s breath touched Rey’s cheek when she breathed, stirring a few strands of Rey’s hair. Rey licked her lips nervously.

‘Really,’ she said. ‘Just turn a blind eye and let me get out of here. Like you never saw me. I’ll do anything you want.’ Anything would be a small price to pay for Finn.

‘I don’t doubt that for a second,’ said the Captain. Her voice dropped a little lower, turned husky in a way that Rey was not familiar with but nonetheless responded to. ‘I’m pretty sure you’d do anything even if I didn’t let you go.’ She crowded Rey further back and pulled off her gloves. Her armoured arms brushed Rey’s shoulders. 

To her horror, Rey realised that she was blushing. She’d thought that the ability to experience shame had been burned out of her by years of survival on Jakku, years of haggling and bargaining and fighting and demanding. Apparently not. The Captain’s close proximity made her feel very warm. She could feel the tiny hairs on her skin prickling. Adrenaline still flooded her, but it wasn’t a fight or flight reflex any more. When the Captain moved her strong hands to Rey’s arms, just above the elbow, Rey’s breath caught in her throat. 

Rey had never been touched like this before. _This_ , she was hazily aware, had something to do with the mysterious promise of sex. Avoiding close, intimate touch was a skill she had learned early. She didn’t want to get that close to the men on Jakku, with their creeping comments and their sly glances. Men would make nice and then grab at her. Men would promise things, offer to trade things. Offer to buy her. Stand too close, all sweat-stinking and heavy breathing, and then shout and bluster when Rey tried to leave. The young whores, the ones younger than Rey, cried a lot. The older ones looked bored, or sad if nobody was looking. 

Once, standing in line to trade her salvage for food, Rey had seen a little retinue go by. A local warlord, fat and proud, and his men, and then a sedan chair with a shadowy figure inside. As Rey had watched, two slim, white fingers had made a crack in the filmy white curtains surrounding the chair. She had caught a glimpse of a pale, smooth arm, and an oval face, and dark, shiny curls. A very red mouth. That evening she had pulled her scruffy clothing aside and examined her tanned arms and her brown ankles and the whiter skin up the inside of her thighs. She wondered how often the woman in the sedan chair went hungry. She imagined slipping inside the folds of the curtains and touching the woman’s pale, smooth skin.

The Captain did exactly that now, skimming her big, rough hand up Rey’s side and brushing her thumb under Rey’s rib. It made her jump, but she wanted to press into that touch. With surprising deftness, the Captain’s hands slid into Rey’s clothes, under her overlapping layers, until they were skin to skin. Rey closed her eyes.

‘Look at me,’ said the Captain with easy authority. Rey shook her head. The woman had clear, grey-blue eyes and a stare too penetrating to bear in Rey’s current state. ‘No? Fine.’ Without warning, the Captain grabbed Rey’s hips and spun her around until she was leaning over the console bank. Two quick button presses locked the controls, and then the Captain took Rey’s hands and placed them flat against the touchscreen. ‘Keep them there.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Rey asked, her breath misting the screen in front of her. She could see the hazy, silver form behind her; the fair-skinned face, the blonde hair. The Captain laughed.

‘Nothing you haven’t had already, I’ll bet.’ Then her hand was on Rey’s hip. Down to her thigh. Curving over her hipbone and down over her lower belly. A shiver began in Rey's stomach and rippled lower. The Captain’s hand was rough but gentle. Her armour was unyielding against Rey’s back. It slowly warmed with their body heat. 

When the Captain’s hand moved lower, down between Rey’s legs, Rey let out a little sound. Something between a squeak and a sudden, sharp inhale. She felt a huff of laughter against her neck, right over where her pulse hammered below her ear. She could feel her heartbeat everywhere now, chest and neck and hands and belly. The Captain flexed her hand inward, curled it, and Rey gasped.

She was not an innocent, precisely. She’d seen things; seen the awkward, ungainly rutting of men over women in Jakku’s slums. Rey had been inside bars, sometimes, caught glimpses of fumbling hands in pants or in robes. It was supposed to be enjoyable for men, she’d heard - or at least, men talked about sex a lot with the greatest relish. Rey had never had a woman around to tell her how it went for girls, but she didn’t anticipate pleasure.

Pleasure was happening to her now, though. It was against her better judgement, and it was laced with tension and uncertainty, but it was good. It was so good. Her face felt too warm, as if her eagerness were shameful. She let her head fall forward to hide her face, and then she rolled her hips experimentally against the Captain’s hand. A little burst of heat bloomed between her legs.

‘Good girl,’ the Captain told her, rough-voiced and breathing hard. Rey whimpered; she was _good_. Nobody ever called her good. This was good. She rubbed herself against the woman’s hard fingers again. Rey had tried this herself, sometimes. It was like scratching an itch: a pressure and a little persistence and then relief. It had not felt like burning and throbbing and want. She flattened her hands against the console screens, pressing them down hard for stability. This was happening. This was real.

The thought briefly occurred to Rey that the Captain’s face was unguarded, and that she was not so tall that Rey couldn’t get an elbow up to her nose or jaw and then twist away. She tensed, considering. Then the woman slipped her hand down the front of Rey’s pants and stroked her, just once, and all thoughts of escape fell away. Rey’s mouth opened in a long breath. She sagged a little at the knees, and the Captain pushed her forward over the console to keep her on her feet.

‘Oh,’ she said, stupidly.

‘Oh,’ said the Captain, mocking her in a breathy echo, and she began to run her fingers along Rey’s skin in a slow, smooth drag. Rey let it happen, hitching her hips against the pressure. For a few moments, they were in an easy rhythm. Then the Captain eased a little lower, and one of her fingers began to press inside Rey. Rey gulped and tensed up, remembering the Jakku girls and the whispers about - about - 

‘I don’t,’ she managed to say, her voice all high and tight in her throat. The sound the Captain made in return was equal parts surprise and approval. As if Rey’s inexperience were revelatory, and pleasing. Rey couldn’t understand how that would be so. Inexperience might get a person killed in a fight, or by old electronics, or falling debris. But the Captain seemed happy about it. Excited. Rey trembled, unsure and wary.

‘What are you scared of, girl?’ The woman sounded almost kind. She gave Rey another short, careful stroke; it made Rey’s eyelids flutter half shut. It was confusing. Through her arousal and her fear, Rey managed to speak.

‘It’s what the men do,’ she said, not knowing how to explain it, ‘to the whores.’ The Captain laughed then, a wild peal of mirth. 

‘Men don’t do _this_ ,’ she said, in a voice laced with cynicism. And humour. Rey felt as though she was being laughed at. Another danger of inexperience - people could exploit you. Rey felt exploited now, though, and it wasn’t like someone cheating her out of her ration packs. It was different. ‘Relax,’ said the Captain. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

Once again, her hand moved down all slick and warm and she slipped her finger up into Rey. Slow, slow, and it didn’t hurt, just like she said. The heel of the woman’s palm pressed up against Rey and made her throb.

Rey moaned.

‘Yeah,’ said the Captain against Rey’s neck. ‘See? It’s good.’ She leaned on Rey from behind, pressing her against the console and pushing her finger deeper inside. ‘Really, nobody ever touched you before?’ Her voice was dark and low with excitement.

‘No,’ said Rey, knowing somehow that this was what she should say. ‘Nobody.’ She paused. ‘I touched myself, sometimes. But it wasn’t like this.’ The Captain groaned then, and she made a motion with her finger and Rey jerked and gasped in her grip. Her shoulders were starting to hurt from the way she was bracing herself against the console, and her head was hanging down with her hair in her face. Physical discomfort didn’t bother her, though. She ignored the way her wrists were bruised from the chair, and her sore leg muscles. Nothing mattered but this.

The Captain brought her other hand to Rey’s mouth.

‘Lick,’ she said, and Rey obeyed, licking the woman’s fingers. They tasted like salt and leather. The woman brought her hand down and started to stroke Rey again, small, light circles that weren’t quite enough. Rey whined and tried to rub back. ‘Get up on your toes,’ ordered the woman.

‘Why?’ Rey said, daring to complain. She tried to rub off on the Captain’s hand again, but to no avail. The woman reached up and put her hand around Rey’s throat, just tight enough to be threatening. She curled her finger up into Rey again.

‘You like my finger in your cunt?’ Rey whimpered with desperation; she felt herself tighten up around the woman’s hand. She didn’t reply, so the Captain shook her a little by the throat like a misbehaving dog. ‘You like it? Answer me.’

‘I like it,’ Rey said, panting, trying to suck in another breath.

‘You want another one in there?’

‘Yes,’ Rey breathed.

‘So you do as I say. Get up on your toes.’ Rey obeyed. The effort of holding herself up on toes and arms made her shake. Or maybe that wasn’t effort. 

Bent over like this, the Captain’s finger in her could get deeper. Her other hand resumed its gentle pressure up on Rey’s clit. The woman started to fuck her, slowly rubbing inside her. It made a slick, wet noise. She could hear the woman breathing hard behind her, too. Rey’s face in the reflective console looked slack and desperate. She closed her eyes. The Captain laughed.

‘Don’t want to watch?’ She pressed another finger into Rey. Rey was loosening up for her, she realised, opening up, letting her in. She wondered what the woman would make her take. ‘I’m gonna play this back on the security tapes later. There’s a camera right in front of you.’ Rey squeezed her eyes closed tighter and tried not to think about it, but the woman gave her clit a little pinch. Rey squealed and then bit her lip to stay quiet. ‘Look at it,’ the Captain commanded. ‘Look up. Up.’ She pinched Rey again. Rey opened her eyes and took the quickest glance up to the shiny, black eye of the security camera. A light was blinking red. She hid her face again and moaned.

A little wet trickle ran down the inside of her thigh, soaking into her loose pants. The Captain was fucking Rey steadily, now, fingers rolling against the walls of her cunt and her other hand stroking her clit. Rey was blood-hot and aching, pushing herself down and back onto the woman’s big, hard hand. Every thrust pushed a noise out of her. She tried to stifle it at first, face in her bicep, but the Captain shifted and eased a third finger into her and Rey forgot herself. She felt stretched, filled up, taken.

‘Please,’ she said, not knowing what she was begging for but burning for it. Behind her, the Captain made a low, hot sound, and it tipped Rey over the edge. She bucked and twisted against the command console, her muscles tight and her cunt pulsing hard. She dripped with arousal, felt it on her skin and on her clothes; she could smell herself and she knew the Captain could, too. She moaned and shivered as she came, and the woman stroked her through it, inexorable and expert. Then it was over, and Rey was sweating and panting against the console with her hair stuck to her face and her hands slippery on the screen.

The Captain slid her fingers free and Rey sighed a little, empty and a touch sore. The pressure against Rey’s back disappeared, and she experimentally peeled one hand from the shiny surface of the console. She left a misty handprint there. When she moved, her clothes felt heavy and damp against her skin. Her muscles were loose and slack; she stood straight with some difficulty. Two throbbing points of soreness on her hips told her she’d have bruises tomorrow. If she survived until tomorrow. She turned and sat on the command console for a moment and tried to adjust the layers of her clothes, pulling her belt straight and looking in dismay at the damp patch between her legs, impossible to hide.

‘You’ve got sixty seconds before I sound the general alarm,’ said the Captain. ‘The hangars are on the lowest level to the east.’

‘What,’ said Rey, breathing hard and struggling to form complete sentences. The Captain leaned in close, so that the heat from her flushed cheeks radiated against Rey’s skin.

‘Something for something, that was the deal. You got fucked, I got a nice little home video. You earned a head start.’ She leaned in closer, until her mouth brushed Rey’s ear. ‘Run, girl.’ 

Rey bolted for the door.


End file.
